


necromantic

by youremyqueen



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Occult, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Resurrection, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three is only the magic number if all three can breathe. high school occult au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	necromantic

**Author's Note:**

> written for my darling bby tanya on tumblr, who requested the prompts: rituals, abandoned locations. i went all high school au with it because i'm a fuckin animal. will maybe someday write more in this universe. thanks for reading!

"It’ll work,  _trust me_ ,” B tells him, as he draws a pentagram in silver  _Sharpie_  on the basement floor of the Yotsuba Morgue, abandoned 1986, set for demolition in eight days, and this is the moment that Light knows that, whether it works or doesn’t, his pride is not going to survive this.

It’d be bad enough if he’s seen ditching with Beyond “B” Birthday, first year terror currently serving his third suspension, but being caught with L Lawliet, his unkempt rival in all things - except personal hygiene - would decimate his reputation in one fell swoop. Especially with the addition of the cheesy occult book currently sitting in his lap.

Especially with L in the state he’s in.

Light sighs, rolling his eyes, and reviews the instructions. “It says we need three ‘practitioners.’ I know you failed remedial math - “

"Only through sheer over-enthusiasm," B puts in, by which of course he means that he threw another student’s desk through a third story window in a fit of mathematical peak and only avoided expulsion, contrary to his dearest wishes, through his grandfather’s generous contribution to the new science labs and his older brother’s threatening glances at the faculty.

"There are only two of us," Light finishes, before B can go off on a tangent again.

B looks at him like he’s inconceivably stupid. Slowly, he counts out, pointing around the triangle that their bodies make, at himself, then Light, then L. He holds up three fingers, waving them uncomfortably close to Light’s face.

Light feels sick. It might just be the smell. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

"It’ll work," B insists, turning back to his sloppy pentagram. "Hand me the bloodwort."

Light shakes his head. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into - “

“ _It’ll work._ ”

"He’s dead," Light shouts, louder than he means to, and it echoes against the deteriorating walls. B winces, but L’s body doesn’t move, stays right where it is, just as pale and still and ugly and  _maddening_  as it he’d been when he was alive.

_Dead_. It’s the first time he’s said it. He’d thrown away his invitation to the funeral and pretended like he’d never seen it. He’d kept on studying, training in order to slip out of the academic standstill that he and L have been locked in for months and into first place.

_Dead_.

It occurs to him now that he’s become valedictorian by default.

He feels sick and he’s going to sit down, except then B is right in front of him, grabbing him by his face and forcing him to look into his eyes. His hands are surprisingly warm. His mischievous glint has turned steely with resolve. B has never touched Light before, but they’ve sort of traded flesh, lips against lips against lips, with L as the go-between. Light always thought it was kind of disgusting that L was fucking his half-brother, but here and now any alternative terrifies him. B is the only one in the world who understands how he’s feeling.

He says, breath getting on Light’s face, “He promised me he wouldn’t go.”

Light blinks. His sinuses sting and he feels like a child. He swallows it back. “He’s - he was a liar.”

B smiles the way he used to smile across the cafeteria at Light, who sat surrounded by a group of pretty people that he barely spoke to, arm hooked over L’s shoulder and eyes singing a mantra of superiority.

He says, “Yeah, but not as good a liar as he thinks.” He shoves away from Light, turning back towards his stupid spell from his stupid book that isn’t going to bring L back, isn’t going to do a goddamn thing but confirm their loneliness and impotence against the harshness of this rotten world.

"Bloodwort," B says, holding out a hand, and Light rolls his eyes, doesn’t believe in it for even a moment, but picks it up out of their bag of cobbled together ingredients and substitutions, and hands it to B.

His hands are warm, and it’s still a surprise.


End file.
